AFFINITY
by harley-kenickie
Summary: ·Peter eyed her wearily, "Is there something you wanted to talk about?" · She didn't look at him, "No." · "Then why did you come all the way here?" He asked. · Malia met his gaze, "I don't know." · "You don't know?" · "Yeah. Is that a problem?" · Peter sighed, "Not at all."· (Post 4x12.)
1. ·Preface·

Affinity: (noun) liking or inclination towards something / or similarity.

-(·)-

Malia Tate didn't know it would take her months to gain enough courage. She didn't know asking to see her father in the one place she hated more than math would make her nerves chill.

Malia had thought and rethought her questions, her examples, her curiosity. She hadn't confided in anyone, even when she realized her mind always came back to this. This aching feeling in the pit of her stomach. The feeling of abandonment and not being good enough. Not feeling good enough for even Peter Hale.

Malia hadn't told her adoptive father that she knew she wasn't his or that she'd met her true creator. She hadn't told anything to the man who raised her as his own but kept so many secrets from her. She felt like she knew the man who had only given her features, hair, eyes, and even a pout better than the one she'd known her whole life. She knew she got her aggressive, impulsive, and murderous behavior from Peter Hale.

Malia hadn't told Stiles, her devoted boyfriend, that she thought about her biological father nearly everyday since they locked him up. But she hadn't told anyone she had decided to visit Eichen House.


	2. ·Interrogation·

A young woman with a brown to blonde ombre froze, staring at a metal, barred door. It was the wrong day for this; the full moon would enter the sky in just a few hours. Her heart raced and she hoped his hearing wasn't as good as it should be. That would be one more thing to get embarrassed about.

The teenager knew the man inside couldn't have any idea as to who had come to see him.

That was a comforting thought as she realized turning around then and never letting him know she had came would be the best thing to do. The tanned girl finally realized that her curiosity would never be subdued if she let her nerves overtake her. She took a deep breath, tried to slow her heart rate and swung the door open.

The completely white room had a foot thick glass barrier in the direct middle. Even though it was so bright, the conferencing room looked like it was never cleaned. On her side, she was given a plush waiting room chair that could be found at a doctor's office. On the opposing side, a hard chair resembling those at her high school was sat out for the man. He was standing behind it, a hand using the back of it to steady himself.

The door slammed closed, leaving the pair with it's echoes and an uneasy feeling.

"Malia?" His voice was groggy. His features held nothing but admiration for the girl.

She slowly sat in the chair on her side and cleared her throat, "Peter."

He mimicked her actions; the fluorescent making the dark bags under his eyes more noticeable, "This is a shock."

"I bet just having a visitor is a shock," Malia held her purse on her lap tightly.

"Y-yes, it is. What can I do for you?" Peter cut right to the chase, knowing she didn't just want to bond with her insane, power-hungry, and reckless biological father.

Malia was grateful, "I have a question."

"I'm glad to give you the answer. Two months in this shithole and I'd give up my ability to see if I could at least talk to somebody. Somebody whose not crazy. The change in scenery is refreshing," Peter's voice held his usual confidence.

The daughter nodded her head slightly, "Okay."

Silence as he waited for her next words.

"Did you ever care about getting to know me? D-did you even care about my safety?" Her voice broke but her bronze eyes held no tears. Her bronze orbs stared holes into the ground between them.

Peter drew in a breath, mulling over her questions. How he responded would shape the rest of his days. He thought back to their car ride to Mexico and being truly encapsulated by her. Wanting to know more of their similarities and her little pet peeves. Then his mind went to darker places, to when he hit her and delivered that horrible one-liner.

Malia finally looked up to him, only to see one of the most torn expressions she had seen on anybody. Her eyebrows pushed together as she tried to figure out why he wasn't answering and predicting that it was the worst possible explanation.

He notices her bronze orbs staring claws into his face and decided honesty would have to be his policy with her from then on, "I _do _care about you and getting to know you. I have from the moment I found out. But the ambitious no, selfish - side of me only saw it as an opportunity and an inconvenience. One more person to actually care about. That in itself scares me shitless."

Malia turned her head down, almost in an obedient gesture, and spoke without realizing he could hear her, "Now that's even more confusing."

Peter's face fell even more, "Malia if this is about... what I did before getting my ass kicked by Scott..."

"What if it is? It doesn't change your lies, Peter," Her face deepened with anger.

"I can't take that back. The monster inside of me... Malia you have to understand that what it wanted for so long was right in front of it," Peter's eyes pleaded through the glass.

Malia shook her head, "You make it sound like you have an evil alter ego. Something inside you that makes you say, want and do things against your will. That's bullshit, Peter. You don't. It's all just you. You; the monster, the liar, the coward, the criminal, the antagonist, the jealous little boy. That's all I needed. I'm done hoping you give a shit."

She rushed the door.

Peter's voice grew an octave, "Is that really what you think of me?"

She stopped, a hand on the door handle, "It doesn't matter what I think anymore. I don't hate people, especially family. You're my father and I thank you for that meaningless one night stand so that I could stand here today in front of my insane biological father in this shithole."

"How do you know it was meaningless?"

"When you say Desert Wolf. You're eyes give you away. You know you could never have a caring relationship with anybody. It's all just a game to you," The teenager opened the door.

Peter stood and approached the glass, "You're my daughter. My blood. I would never want you to get hurt. Or Derek. This, whatever you want to call it, between us isn't a game."

"Oh, what about Talia? Or Laura? You know what, just stop talking. You make everything so much worse," Malia's bronze orbs sent daggers his way just as she disappeared into the maze of Eichen House.

-(·)-

"You did what?!" Stiles practically yelled, his hands moving in all directions. He stood directly in front of Malia but also in the center of the room. She sat on the middle cushion of the couch with Lydia to her left. Mason sat on her right and Liam lounged against the armrest next to him. Breaden stood closer to the kitchen, eyeing the crowd. Scott was on the other side of stiles, leaning against Breaden' s weapons table. Derek sat quietly on the bottom steps.

"When?" Scott asked, his brow furrowed.

"Yesterday."

Stiles raised his eyebrows so much they almost touched his hairline, "What?! The day of a full moon! And it took you a whole twenty-four hours to tell us?!"

Lydia's voice was gentle and reassuring, "Why did you go?"

The Werecoyote paused a moment before answering, "To ask him a question."

"Why? We could have figure it out together," Stiles ran a hand through his hair.

"No you couldn't."

Breaden walked to the back of the couch and rested a hand on Malia's shoulder, "Okay. You had to go. For yourself. We can understand that."

"What did you ask him?" Stiles' gaze went through her.

Malia gave him a hard look, "That's none of your business."

"Malia-"

Scott jumped in before the couple could rip each other a new one, "Can I ask you to do me a favor?"

The girl, and everyone else, looked at him expectantly.

"Could you go back there and ask him a, few questions? It's not like he has much else to do," Scott had moved closer, shoulder to shoulder with a pensive Stiles.

The human nodded his head, "Good idea. He's got to be dying to confuse us even more than usual."

"What questions? Bringing you up in particular, Scott, might not be a good idea," Malia awkwardly shifted in her spot on the sofa.

She glanced over the entire group, stopping at Derek in the corner. He didn't look worried or overjoyed, he had no expression at all. But once he noticed her looking, he sent her a reassuring smile. She returned it before focusing back on the conversation continuing without her.

"-Anything to do with what Kate did to Derek," Breaden finished inquiring.

Lydia mumbled, "How did he know I was immune?"

"How could he sit here, help, act concerned and still be tricking us for so long? Even longer than I've been around. I don't get how he can't see how awesome you guys are," Liam started off serious but soon saw all the depressing looks around the room and decided to try to lighten it.

Stiles basically whispered, "Why he trusted Kate?"

"I want to know how he could do what he did to his own daughter. Not me, or anyone else. He doesn't owe any of us but Malia and Derek. They should have been his main priority. And who knows if he was in on the thing with Derek? It still happened and he still maligned himself with Kate. So I want to know how he could lie to and hit his own daughter," Scott shocked everyone with his thoughts. He stood as the True Alpha, in the center and addressing them all like a leader.

Malia held Scott's gaze, a silent understanding was made.

"Kira, can you give me a ride home? I'm suddenly very tired."

The Kitsune nodded, knowing that Malia just didn't want to be around the rest of the pack and that they would end up staying at Kira's house that night.

As they stood Malia turned slightly and eased everyone's thoughts, "Write your questions on a piece of paper. I'll get it in a few days."

The Werecoyote and the Kitsune exited the building.


	3. ·Lacking·

Malia pulled her tangled hair to the left side and braided it. Her reflection in Stiles bathroom mirror showed sleepiness and nerves. A week and a half since she'd gone to see Peter and it hadn't been long enough. The notebook paper was prepared and placed carefully into her purse. She had not contributed to the questions currently plaguing her thoughts.

Her boyfriend walked in with a cheeky grin, "Good morning, beautiful."

She moved out of his way as he reached for his toothbrush, "Morning."

"How'd you sleep?" He handed her a purple toothbrush with paste already on it.

"Good," She spoke before joining him in brushing. Her mind was in a staring contest with the drain.

"What time did you wake up?"

She looked up as she spit, "Six."

"Why so early?" He did the same.

They put the brushes away, "It just happened."

Malia entered his bedroom once again, observing her clothing options for the day. She would not go see Peter in Stiles shirt and underwear. She hurried to grab something simple and not at all like she'd picked out five outfits the night before.

"Are you scared about going back?" Stiles joined her and slipped on some jeans.

"Not really," She knew that was true, her nerves just wouldn't agree.

He put on a classic flannel, "I would come in with you if I was allowed."

"It's fine, Stiles. I can do this," Her jeans had tears in them, her army green tee was covered by a dark brown sweater cardigan. Her feet fell into matching brown combat boots.

He wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her closer, "You sure you don't want me to drive you and wait outside?"

"No. You told Lydia you'd help her with Parrish today. That's more important. I have no idea how long this will take anyways. I'll call when I leave," She said before pecking him on the lips.

He gave her a proper kiss before begging for more information, "How are you getting there?"

Malia chuckled and turned to get her purse, "Your dad said he could drop me off on his way to work."

"Oh, did he? When exactly could he have offered this?" Stiles asked, putting on deodorant and trying not to let his inability to be out of the loop show.

She stepped into the hallway, "Yeah, I got here early yesterday and he offered me steak..."

"Fantastic. My dad is having secret meetings with my girlfriend. Good knows what that entails," He mumbled, rummaging around his messy desk for his phone.

The Sheriff yelled from the bottom of the steps, "You ready, Malia?"

-(·)-

"I thought this was a one visit per decade deal," Peter sat slowly, aware of her odd mood.

"I'm only here as the middle man," She fell deeper into the chair.

His eyebrows pushed together, "What do you mean?"

"Once I told everyone I came here the other day, after the yelling and fake attempts at understanding, they decided they wanted me to ask you questions," Malia's voice drifted off.

"Why?"

"You do know how to keep people hanging," She said rather quick and with an attitude.

He sighed heavily, "I guess so. How many do they have?"

Taking out the paper, she unfolded it and held it up for him. She had to flip it a couple of times before the point got across; there were a lot. Each side was filled into every corner and crease.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Let's get to it then."

"I -uh-" Malia looked over the paper one last time.

He tried to help, "Just start at the top."

She folded it back up neatly, "How about I just say you wouldn't answer any of them? That you want them to stay in the dark with your mysterious and evil ways."

He caught on to her slight joked tone.

"Why would you do that?"

"I don't want to be here all day."

"Oh."

"Alright?"

"Fine. We'll do it your way," His expression held only submission.

Malia stayed in her chair, searching the pale walls for nothing in particular, "Okay."

Peter eyes her wearily, "Is there something you wanted to talk about?"

She didn't look at him, "No."

"Then, why'd you come all the way here?" He asked.

Malia met his gaze, "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Yeah. Is that a problem?"

Peter sighed, "Not at all."

Malia looked him over. He looked odd without the usual v-neck and his eyes showed more lack of sleep than the last time they'd met. She shuffled in her seat, not sure what she wanted to happen next.

Peter spoke first, saying what she'd thought he never would show interest in, "How's school going?"

It took her a moment to pull herself together, her face revealing all that was happening inside, "It's going."

"Still hate math?"

"With a passion. History is a close second."

His features got lighter, "What? History? I used to love it. It was my favorite subject -don't tell anyone that."

Her chuckle was light, "Scouts honor. Trust me, that's almost embarrassing for me. Why did you like it?"

He noticed how her hands stayed glued to the armrests, how her attention couldn't be kept in one place for too long. He smiled lightly, "I'm good with memory."

She raised her eyebrows up at him, accusing.

"Okay, with memory I can control."

She countered, "They want to know the how's and whys too, you know."

"Now that's the part you bullshit."

Malia laughed, their smiles similar in form, "I wish that came easy to me."

"You'll figure it out," Peter's words were soft, "I can't believe they threw you back into school the way they did. I think it was too fast."

"Me too. I'm in no "slow" classes and I have two maths."

He was the one to chuckle, "That just means you're smart enough for all that work."

"It doesn't make me feel smart."

"It will. Eventually."

She scooted to the edge of her seat, pulling on her bag, "I should probably get going. Lydia said she'd help me study later. Finals are in a few weeks."

"Don't work yourself too hard. And, Malia, do come visit again."

"I might," She then stumbled out of the room.


	4. ·Developing·

Malia ducked, using her lower arm to block Derek's kick. She then action rolled away to be able to stand again. He quickly followed, another kick and a jab to the rib. She stumbled back into a pillar, her back hitting before her head. The room spun. She wanted to close her eyes and get rid of a growing headache but she could already hear his feet shuffling against the concrete. Her eyes opened just as his foot connected with the inside of her right knee. Her leg gave way and she fell to her left. She swiftly turned on to her back, her legs like helicopter propellers as they kicked Derek in the side.

He was the one to stumble now, his hip colliding with Breaden's weapons table. Malia was already back on hr feet and she took the moment to throw a few punches at his stomach. The second she decided to to go for his face, he grabbed her wrist. He pulled it over his head and held on to the other. Malia struggled before colliding her head against his. A loud smack could be heard throughout the apartment. They both fell backwards, holding their foreheads.

A gun shot rang out from somewhere else in the building. Derek shook his head and laughed, "I can't believe she's letting him use her favorite pistol."

"I still can't believe he hasn't shot one of them in the foot or something," Malia joined in his laughed, moving over to sit against a pillar.

Derek got up and headed for the fridge, "You know, It's great that you guys are learning how to really fight."

"I just think it's weird that none of us are being taught by the same person," Malia thought out loud, "I mean, you and I. Stiles and Breaden. Those make some sort of sense."

"So does Scott teaching Liam. He is his one and only Beta. And I thought Kira already knew how to fight?" He walked back over with water and offered her one.

She gladly excepted, "Just with her sword. She still practices with her mom. It's just that now Deaton's been showing her some martial arts stuff."

Derek sat against the same pillar, on a different side, and to her left, "So is Perrish showing Lydia how to shoot and fight between testing his abilities?"

Malia nodded, "Sheriff Stilenski has been helping too. Mason's sat in on some of their sessions too."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

Another gun shot.

"How did your meeting with Peter go last week?" Derek asked, wiping sweat off of his face.

She chuckled, "He didn't answer anything but apparently he's something of a history genius or something."

"He kind of is. Always had been. he remembers like everything from school," He gulped down half of his water.

Malia's eyebrows rose, "Really?"

"Yep."

"Why haven't you gone to see him? I thought you were close," She spoke before thinking and dropped her empty bottle on the ground between them.

Derek scuffed, "We were close. Then the fire happened. Up until he came back to life... I thought he'd changed. I was wrong. He was just using me, along with everyone else. Even Kate. It's sickening."

Malia looked to her lap, her thumbs couldn't seem to stay still as her hands intertwined, "I know."

He noticed that her voice sounded pitiful but he didn't get a chance to comment on it. The lift creaked to a halt and the Hale's partners came into the apartment.

"Looks like you two did a lot of work," Malia thought Breaden was joking until she looked around. A table and chairs were broken, one step was torn off and stuck in the sofa. A few pillars had holes in the corners from missed punches. There were claw marks all over the floor in front of the large window. Luckily the glass was just a bystander to the madness.

"You guys should have seen me," Stiles raised his hand to fake shoot, "I hit every target today."

"He's really improving," Breaden handed him a water.

Derek praised, "I think it's safe to say Malia won today."

"Awesome," Stiles plopped down on to the couch, avoiding the wreckage.

"I don't think I did. Derek almost had me, more times than I can count," Malia used the wall to stand, her back popping.

"Almost," Derek reiterated.

Malia rolled her eyes, "I'm going to head out."

Stiles knit his eyebrows together, "Where are you going? I thought you were going to come over and help me... help my dad."

"I would but this really wore me out," Malia grabbed her military jacket, "And I'm sure he will do fine tonight."

"Malia.." Stiles whined.

Breaden spoke from her spot at the steps, "What's going on with your dad tonight?"

"He's got a date," Stiles said rather slowly.

Malia rolled her eyes again, "It's not just a date. It's with Scott's mom."

"Oh, exciting."

Derek spoke up, "Babe, didn't you have something to give her?"

"Oh, shit! How did I forget?" Breaden ran up the stairs, shuffled around, and was back in moments, "Here. Everything I dug up on our Desert Wolf."

Malia stared blankly at the stuffed vanilla folder until Stiles got up and took it for her. Derek stood up and the four were now in a square.

"I'll look over it. Highlight the good stuff," Stiles flipped through the pages.

Derek put a hand on the Werecoyote's shoulder, "Deaton and I are going to reach out to the supernatural community. We'll figure this out soon."

"Thanks."

"Let us know if there is anything we can do," Breadon called after Malia's leaving form.

"Got it."

-(·)-

"The Louisiana Purchase?"

Malia let out an exhausted sigh, "Yes. But I'm assuming this was a wasted trip."

Peter rushed to lift his hands forward, a feeble attempt at stopping her from walking out, :I know some about it. is this for a test?"

"Yes... and no. I have to make a poster with the basics on it," She reached into her book bag. It was on the floor against the chair and at her left. Her purse was on the other side.

He watched her get out a notebook, a folder and a few pencils and highlighters, "A test only on this one purchase?"

"No, it's the last one I have to make a poster for," Malia opened the notebook and showed him her notes.

Peter leaned closer to see, "Then why do you need my input?"

"I don't. I'm just going to highlight what I need and should try to remember for the final next week," She uncapped the yellow highlighter and began.

He chuckled, "So you don't need me at all?"

"Yep."

"Are you trying to tell me something else?"

"Do you want me to be?"

"No, I'm good."

Malia smirked up at him, "Okay? So, how's your life of solitude?"

"I'm starting to hate tomato soup... and romance novels," He reclined into the chair.

She laughed, "Romance novels?"

"Wait, you don't want to hear about the tomato soup? How I'm 80% sure it's pigs blood and some flour shit?" Peter's expression showed only lighthearted joy.

"I've had it before," She turned back to her highlighting.

Peter rubbed his eyes, "Oh. Well, my roommate reads his books out loud and he pretty much only has romances."

"So did you ever like romance novels?" She mocked.

"No. Not the books. I never minded the movies," He smiled softly at her.

She stopped, sharing his gaze for a moment, "Is that -he- why you look like you haven't slept the entire time you've been here?"

"Uh-" Peter was taken aback by her observation, "He had a visitor the other day. I got a few hours in."

"What is he?"

"I never know the name but he has three eyes," He tried to explain.

Malia understood, "Deaton came to see him so we could figure out where Kate had Scott and Kira."

"Oh. That makes sense."

"Has he done it to you, yet?"

Peter chuckled, "I haven't let him."


	5. ·Belief·

Malia sat sideways in her chair, her feet dangled over the side. She wore a pair of floral leggings, her combat boots, a simple black v-neck, and a pink kimono, which hung loosely over her shoulders. Her hair was thrown up into a bun. Her head leaned against the seat and a notebook could be spotted in her lap. A pencil raced across the page.

"So you just came here to write an essay?" Peter's voice halted her sentence.

Malia glanced up, "It's not like we have many options. You're lucky to just have a visitor."

"They probably thought no one would come see me," He admitted.

"Well, _that_ wasn't the case," She raised her eyebrows at him and pointed her pencil in his general direction.

"But you only come once a week," He tried to make it sound like a wine.

She noticed.

"This is my sixth time coming here," She turned back to her notebook, "Show a little appreciation."

"You know I appreciate it, Malia. I just hope it keeps happening," Peter rubbed his neck. All of their father-daughter bonding was getting to his head and he wasn't too sure what to do about it.

"It might."

His eyes trailed over her, she held a confident position much like his own. She lazily contributed to conversations, though he always knew she was telling the truth. The way her face changed as she looked over a situation, reminded him of his nephew. Her cousin. Derek and Malia had spent a good amount of time together and Peter guessed that she fought like him too. He wondered how much of himself was actually running through her. Aside from the murdering habits. He decided to shift the subject, "Any word from Argent?"

"No," She didn't look up, "I think he meant it when he said he'd leave us alone."

Peter raised is hands up in mock defense, "Just making conversation."

"Well, you're horrible at it," Malia smirked down at her paper; another think they had in common.

He chuckled, "I have never proclaimed to being good at it. I'm just trying... How's everything at Derek's?"

"Your v-necks have not been touched. Don't worry," She deadpanned, holding back a laugh, and closed the notebook.

"Ha. Ha. You should really be a comedian," Peter joked.

"I guess that doesn't run in the family, then," Malia didn't look at him as she closed up her bags.

"Ouch. That burns."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were so fragile," Her smile came out, proud.

Peter laughed and motioned toward himself, "I'm The Alpha, darling. Can't get much meaner than that."

"The Alpha? The Alpha who got is ass kicked by some teenager more times than not? Oh, let's not forget the part where you created him in the first place," Her voice held no bitterness, but the cold truth stung them both.

He shook his head and didn't retaliate, "Okay, I see your point. I'm as fragile as a baby duckling."

"A baby duckling?" Her legs flung over the right way and she rested her elbows on top of them as she leaned forward, "Do you ear yourself? You're so odd."

"I am-"

"And old."

"I am not old," His face paled but his eyes got a bit brighter.

Her eyebrows rose, she watched him carefully, "Old enough to have a daughter."

"Young enough to have a daughter, you mean," He pulled one ankle up to rest on the other knee.

She leaned back as a laugh took hold of her, "See, this is why I-"

Malia stopped herself.

"Why you... what?" His hand held on to the fabric around his ankle.

"It's nothing."

"Malia."

She eyed him, "Fine. This is why I haven't told anyone that I keep coming here. You're too embarrassing."

Peter's eyebrows went through the roof, "Not even Stiles?"

"Uh. Hell no. He would chain me to a tree or something to keep me away from here," She looked at the ground.

"What about _him_?"

Malia's eyes matched his, "_Him_?"

"You know... uh- your father," Peter was visibly comfortable, scooting around in is seat like a little kid with too much caffeine in his system. Only, Peter definitely did not look happy or full of energy.

"Oh, _Him_? he doesn't know. Hell, he doesn't care that I'm not home at a decent time or that I'm barely there to begin with. He;s still mourning is _family_," Malia's voice spit vinegar.

"Where do you stay?"

"Stiles', Lydia's, Kira's, sometimes Derek's."

"Wait, why not just sleep at his house?" Peter wondered aloud.

"I don't want to be there. It looks exactly like it did when I was a kid," She rustled around her purse in search of something, "Though, one of the few times I allowed myself to stay there, I went searching through the attic. I found this. I don't know how we ended up with it but I'm glad I have it."

She held a Polaroid, dirty and torn, as she stood. She moved towards the glass and her eyes seemed to gloss over as she looked it over. After realizing that he had gotten up and followed her lead, she turned the picture towards him. She pushed it against the glass and hoped he could see it. Peter placed a gentle hand over the picture and let a smile play on to his lips.

"I guess somehow you saved a picture of it with my things. The stuff you gave to my other parents. That's the only thing I can think of," She said as he admired it. A young and handsome Peter Hale beamed up at whoever took the picture. He held a small, bald baby girl wrapped in a purple hospital blanket. His eyes held something neither one of them knew they could.

He couldn't help but ask, "Why? Why are you glad you found it?"

"Because it let's me know that you weren't always so bad," Malia smiled up at him, "How you aren't so bad now."

"Thank you for showing it to me," He finally tore his eyes away from the photograph and sent her a grateful smile.

Malia backed away and glanced at the photo before turning to put it into her wallet. She slipped on her school bag and then her purse. She noticed him watching her pensively and awkwardly smiled his way.

He sat back down, "Have a good week, Malia."

"I think I'll be back Tuesday... and then again on Saturday. Like always," She spoke as she headed for the door.

Peter chuckled, "I'm fine with that."


	6. ·Progress·

"So how was the second date?" Malia asked, glancing at the Sheriff. They sat at dinner, waiting for Stiles to get back from helping Parrish and Lydia. It had taken him a week to ask Melissa out on a second date.

"I'd say it went pretty well," He smirked, "We went to the Aquarium and she decided to give us this spaghetti."

"Seeing as neither one of us can cook," Malia joked.

He stuffed more into his mouth, "I think today was a success."

"I'm really happy for you two. You seem to make each other happy," She finished off her water.

He chuckled, "Thank you, Malia. Now, I've been meaning to ask you something..."

Malia's expression softened.

"When am I going to meet your father?" He asked nonchalantly.

Her eyes went wide and her mouth hung low, "W- what?"

"Your father?"

She cleared her throat, "Uh. I don't know. I'm not sure if he even knows I have a boyfriend... let alone friends at all."

"Why is that?" He finished his plate and poured some more in from the bowl sat between them. They sat at each head of the table.

Her eyes darted around the room and anywhere but at him; the clock, the tile, the two empty chairs, her empty plate, the doorway to the kitchen or the archway into the living room. She kept her words short, "He's still grieving his actual family."

"Now, Malia, don't say that," His eyes focused on her tapping fingers, "He raised you. You're just as much his as Stiles is mine."

"He raised me, yes, but I was gone for_ years. _He doesn't know me now and he doesn't want to. The house is the same as it was the day I left and I've made it clear that I don't like it. He just keeps on sleeping, going to work and coming home to sit in each room moping. A wounded look on his face," Malia gathered her dishes and headed for the kitchen.

He called over his shoulder, "I still want to meet him. Maybe the four of us can have dinner. We can go out someplace nice."

She made more noise than was needed as she placed her dishes in the dishwasher, "Maybe. But probably not."

The front door swung open, revealing a worn out Stiles with Lydia right behind, not looking much better. The boy saw Malia and entered the kitchen. Lydia sat her laptop bag and purse on one of the empty dining room chairs, greeting the Sheriff.

"Hey there..." Stiles wrapped is arms around Malia's waist and she pushed her face into his shoulder.

Her hands clutched at the collar of his flannel, "How'd it go?"

"Still nothing," Stiles turned to engulf himself in her scent, "We only have a few more creatures to look up and try to get Parrish to compare to but... the odds are dwindling."

She pulled back, searching his face, "I'm sorry. I'm sure you guys will figure it out eventually."

"I wish we already did," He pinched his eyes closed and threw his head back in a huff, "Lydia's starting to feel uneasy. You know, the way she does right before the voices come and we're all in horrible danger."

Malia thought that maybe his try at humor was lost within the reality of his words as his face fell, "We'll get through it."

"Excuse me," The Sheriff shocked them both as he entered the kitchen, the couple separated to let him get to the dish washer, "Thank you."

Lydia followed him in and leaned against the island, "Malia, can I show you something?"

The Werecoyote glanced at the Stillenski's for any sort of hint; they both stayed silent, though it was apparent that they knew what was going on.

The girls entered the dining room where Lydia's laptop was already opened. They sat down next to each other and moved it between them. Lydia's expression was unreadable, though Malia had never been good at predicting the Banshee's mood, actions or even next words.

Lydia cleared her throat, "Using the stuff Braeden gave us, we had Melissa look into medical records around the area and Parrish searched the police records."

"And?"

"We got something."

"What is it?"

"It's not much-"

"Lydia, come on," Malia turned the laptop towards her but stopped when she realized she had no idea where to look.

Lydia took the laptop back and pulled up a few word documents, "Before we do this... Malia, don't get your hopes worked up, okay? This is just te beginning of the investigation."

"It's been the beginning for months now, Lydia. Either way, show me."

The laptop turned towards Malia and she soaked up the information. The Desert Wolf checked into Sherman Hospital exactly seventeen years and five months before. Thee had only ever been two visitors for her and the baby. No names were listed, even for the Desert Wolf. Someone clearly got rid of them all. They just happened to forget one thing. Malia Ayn Hale was on almost every document, confirming the credibility.

"Malia, this is all we have."

"I know, I just- let me rea it over again," She scrolled back through.

Stiles and his father slowly came into the room, sitting at each head of the table.

The Sheriff leaned forward, "Hey, kiddo. With this, it's only a matter of time before we know who and where she is."

"Yeah, and in the meantime we ca help Parrish so he's ready if and when it comes down to a fight," Stiles put his hand over Malia's cold one.

"Malia?" Lydia slowly took the laptop from her, closed it and put it away.

The girl in question sat back with a hollow silence.

"Malia?"Stiles scooted closer to his girlfriend.

She looked to Lydia, "Can you take me home?"

The Banshee nodded.

Stiles spoke as Malia stood, "You can just stay here. It's fine."

Lydia stood as well, knowing Stiles would not win this one. Her keys dangled in her hand and her bags over her shoulder.

Malia headed for the door, "No. I want to go with Lydia."

The other girl followed her out, sending a soft "goodbye" the Sheriff's way. They hopped in the car and drove through silence for about ten minutes. Lydia was the one to break it.

"My place, then?"

The coyote looked at her friend gratefully, "Thank you."

"Hey, I need the company just as much as you do," Lydia's eyes stayed on the road.

"Why's that?"

"I honestly don't have any other friends, and all I do now is go to school, help Parrish and sleep. It's kind of redundant," Lydia admitted.

Malia nodded, "Well, you've got me."

"Thanks."


	7. ·Taking·

"Every Tuesday and Saturday," Peter held a smirk on his face, "Very odd choice."

"Take it or leave it," Malia threw her bags on the ground and repeated the action as she sat down.

His face hardened, "Why must you start a conversation with an attitude? If you were having a bad day, you didn't have to come at all."

Malia thought over the past two weeks or so of knowing not only where she was born, but also that this _was_ happening. She was going to find her mother and she knew those around her would help until their last heartbeat. They wouldn't let anyone get in her way. She finally spoke, "Still no leads."

He sighed, turning his head down, "Since you saw the hospital records? That's a shame."

Her eyes flashed to him, "Tell me. Right now. What do you know, Peter?"

"I was already going to. Damn, you are fast," He admired.

"Perks of being a coyote."

"That, I don't get. No one else in their our family has chosen their own form," His thoughts rolling off his tongue, "And Desert Wolf isn't really Desert Coyote."

"Get on with it, Peter."

His eyes downcast as he spoke, "I started out searching shortly before coming _here_. I had made good with a few newbies to the area; they came from Nevada and had some information on your mother."

"What information, Peter?"

"I don't know. Never got a chance to set up a meeting,: He shuffled in his seat, "Their number and even their address are in the top drawer of my desk at Derek's. Just say you're my daughter and they'll tell you all they know."

"I think I'll be keeping that one up my sleeve."

"Malia, please take someone with you. Just so you have back-up. I'd prefer Derek," Peter started feeling new emotions.

"You're worried about my safety," Malia observed with a slight smirk, "You may actually have human attributes yet."

-(·)-

Two days later, Malia visited Derek's.

"Why would I go there?" Derek's features pushed together as he watched Malia head towards the stairs.

She spoke over her shoulder, "He seems pretty lonely. I mean, I even got him to help me out with my mother."

"I still can't comprehend that you've been going to see him, behind all of our backs," He kicked the concrete and it left a small chip in the ground. He plopped on to the sofa, disappointment displayed on every aspect of him.

Malia was almost up the stairs when she replied, "You all have been so busy. I've had a lot of free time because of that. Don't blame yourself either, it was my decision and I'm glad I made it."

He scuffed, "I was with you almost every day, Malia. Wait, am I the only one you've told?"

Derek saw her duck into Peter's room and oh-so-impatiently waited for an answer. She popped her head into the doorway, "Can you at least think about going?"

"I am the only one, aren't I?"

"Yes. Are you happy now?"

He stood and quickly ascended the stairs, "No, I am not happy. Malia, you can't just throw a secret like this at me."

"Why not? He's your uncle," She squinted and her mouth transformed into a hard line.

"So? He's a bad person," Derek joined her in the room.

Malia was searching the drawers, "Not while he's in there. None of us can get him out and he can't fight his way out. He's stuck. And I bet he'd love to see you."

"I'm not going," His tanned arms crossed and his muscles flexed.

She straightened her back, determining if he could be swayed and then gave in, "Will you at least not tell anyone?"

They stood at a crossroads for several silent moments.

Derek sighed, "No, I won't."

"Good, so can I ask just one more favor from you?" Her eyebrows shot up, her pout reminding him of her father.

He let his arms fall and sat on the corner of the bed, "Yes?"

"Be my back-up when I go meet this guy about my mother..." She handed him the vanilla folder she had just pulled out of the desk.

Derek flipped through it several times, "How are you-"

"Tell them I'm his daughter. He also told me to bring you, specifically, as my reinforcement," She explained.

"Did he happen to say _why_ he wants me to go?" Derek handed her the folder.

She leaned against the desk, "No but it's clear why. We're family."

He raised his eyebrows slightly, tilted his head and projected the 'are-you-serious?' look.

"Family members tend to protect each other," She huffed, "Dumb-ass."

He chuckled, "Okay. Fine. You've got a point. When do you want to do this?"

"Wednesday when we'd usually be practicing," She lead the way back downstairs.

"Great cover story," His voice was stone and danced through the air without rhythm.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned on him, "Hey, don't get so judgmental. I'm going o tell the others soon. I just have to know if I can trust him."

"Sounds like you already do."


End file.
